Lack Toes In Tall Her Ant

You have heard it said: Do not cry over spilled milk.

I was just wondering if there ever is an appropriate time to cry when milk is involved.

Do drive past a cow field and just weep for all the unspilled milk?

Important things from the important things store,

TWS

Table Talk

Writing letters to inanimate objects, concepts, & ideas helps me to accept things as they are and allows me to calmly and respectfully move on with my life.

Here are some examples:

Dear Arugula, 

 I have really tried to like you. I see you in my salad mix. I try to make you feel included, but your pungency clashes with everybody else. It really is too much. I do not know why you insist on being as strong as you are. Therefore, I must move you to my list with cucumbers and treat you as I would treat poison ivy who at this point has got to be some distant botanical relative to you.

 Dear Ardha Chandrasana,

I love your nickname, Half Moon Pose. It's so whimsical, so unassuming. You are delightfully simple, and yet you are incredibly difficult! I appreciate you because there is no other stretch quite as awful as you are.  I feel so two dimensional in your pose. Is it me? Is it because my legs are different lengths? I can balance just fine with your buddies like Warrior 3 and Tree Pose. Alas, I am not giving up on you. I will use my blocks, and I'll start to bring them out for you like I do for Trikonasana. 

Consider yourself special.

Dear Zing,

I really, really like you. Why are you not on the mainstream list? You are so closely related to Zoom, my favorite mainstream call, and all you ask for is just a quarter more. I was so glad to have found you on the C-1 list, but I just think you should work on being moved up from Challenge to Advance to Plus to Mainstream. Heck, go for Basic. Bring your friends Press Ahead and Jaywalk, too, since it turns out all these little cued calls actually have names. Try talking to 2/3 Recycle and Shakedown about moving lists too, at least up to the Advance list since we already know how to counter rotate.  

Dear Papa Johns,

Why is your pizza just mostly bread now? Where did all the sauce go? And the toppings, too? I don't understand why you think that including buttery garlic sauce in your boxes is any substitution for actually just putting sauce or flavor on your pizza like you said you would. Also, why do the leftovers become almost as dense as neutron stars overnight? Your crust goes from being mostly bread to something like osmium in just a few hours. I've never experienced pizza behave in the way that you make it. I think you are a focaccia factory disguised as a pizza shop partially government funded for conducting weird space food experiments on the general public. I remember when you actually used to advertise and compete in the pizza market, but now you just mail it in like it doesn't even matter anymore.

Dear Facebook Marketplace Patrons,

When I post something, there is no need to message me privately and ask me what is the lowest I will go. The price that I post is the price that I will sell it. 

Period. 

There is no other lowest I will go. 

That is why I have posted it at all, you see.

If you insist on offering me a price so low that even my cat could walk over it, you really leave me no choice but to snarkily respond with an even higher offer so that you can personally experience firsthand how insane and petty you're being.  You want to offer me $50 for my $80 sofa?

Congratulations, now I will sell it to you for $110. 

You want to haggle on a social media site where you can't see how hard I'm rolling my eyes at you?

Let's go. I literally have all day.

Dear Greige,

I'm all about fun new names and colors, but I do not like what you are called now. I feel like everyone was getting what they wanted by calling you "khaki", but somewhere down the line an intern got ambitious and took it too far and then you were invented. I do not like the way you sound. And you look like a Greg that had a spelling crisis. Could I just instead make every letter in your word silent? Can you go on existing as a color without having to be called greige? Could you do that for me?

Where I talk to you, at a table,

TWS

Oligopoly

Some people play board games.

Some people play video games.

Couch co-op Mario Party can really feel like both.

You may be familiar with the board game Monopoly, but have you ever played Oligopoly?

It's a version of playing Mario Party where you make a truce to team up together against the other computer players. It is a compromise based on trust wherein we agree not to sabotage or steal from each other and agree to make decisions in-game that work for our greatest good in alignment with each other.

It's great team-building, really. It usually results in either Mike or I winning and keeping the computer players too poor to do anything more competitive than Chance Time.

We always make it a point to steal stars from the computer players. We even call them our suppliers.

Except the other night Mike got impatient at the Boo and spammed the A button, resulting in an UNAUTHORIZED STAR STEAL from me, Daisy. It was truly accidental; I was more shocked than appalled when it happened.

Mike realized right away and permitted me to steal back from him, but with the computer players our suppliers still having ample star inventory, it didn't feel right to break the truce just to get vengeful. 

The game went on to get out of hand, as this was the leaderboard at the end:

I think Mike ended up with 16, BJ with 9, me with 8, and the mole had 5. 

Just for a little context, a score in the double digits - even on a 30-turn game - is pretty substantial. Mike felt like the unauthorized star steal from me led to this over-the-top performance and so he offered a future permissible star steal but even more generous: an entire turn of stars!

I made a physical coupon to commemorate this transaction.

I am now painfully aware that I misspelled permissible on this and now I can't unsee it.

I apologize. My typewriter does not have spell check.

You see, Jamboree buddy/multiple methods permits taking advantage of an opportunity to STEAL MULTIPLE STARS from Mike during this one turn of redemption. 

Additionally, there is ample opportunity to use this on another Mario Party game. 

Perhaps a more difficult one. 

Perhaps one where we play with a friend from college and I whip this out like a secret weapon because it has been so long since all of us played together and Mike has forgotten it and they're too busy sabotaging each other anyway but then suddenly I come in there and win everything.

I gotta make it worth it. 

I am also posting it here so that you can testify to my long game strategy and watch it turn into a true story. 

You know, like a two or three witnesses kind of thing.

Every day I wake up and play an augmented reality game called Pilgrim's Progress,

TWS

Jury Duty: Impressions

It felt like church. 

I was sitting in a wooden pew just waiting, waiting, waiting and gradually being surrounded by strangers. It's that awkward feeling of being seated at someone's wedding before all the important people show up. 

I almost expected a hymn to start playing to woo me into the spirit of democratic legal proceedings.

After a thirty minute meditative moment of silence, roll was called. That felt like school, with the usual cut-ups making smart remarks or showing up late.

And then I really had to pee. 

But not before I made a Jury Duty Scavenger Hunt for you!

• Someone's buttcrack
• Someone wearing a hat even though the jury summons (paper? notice? invitation?) went on and on about the dress code and how they're not allowed
• A guy that just looks like he smells like after shave and hair gel
• A sugary beverage
• A clock that is set to the wrong time
•  Fort Valley actually had multiples of these. I had the rare privilege of serving right after the time change for daylight savings, so everything was already super off and, yeah, I only got like 3 hours of sleep.

It was really cold in courtroom, but the bathroom felt like a warm, cozy shoebox.

Ok, so more ways that it was like church:

There were large, arched windows that might have been stained glass, but they had the blinds all closed so you couldn't see in or out. Sequestration at its finest.

There were also flags of country and state in the front of the room because Romans 13:1 exists and so it's just comforting to be reminded that God has appointed specific authorities and institutions over your butt.

The bailiffs were like ushers: there to answer your logistical questions, opening little doors for you. These are your tithes hard at work.

And then a guy clothed in black robes came out.

Judge, perhaps.

Preacher, maybe.

The black robe also bestows upon its possessor the spiritual gift of administration.

There was a little back and forth while the associate pastors (district attorneys) approach the pulpit (bench) to talk to him. Probably about communion wafers or something.

After welcome and announcements, we all raise our right hand to take an oath so that now we all know about the perjury thing. The unison agreement felt catechismic, like saying the apostles creed.

"We all affirm...this to be true."

I've always felt weird about oaths because of Matthew 5:37.

What if you refuse to oath?

Isn't it just a tad heady to absolutely swear by what you think you know?

Does one also have the right, yes- even the choice, to not oath?

Full story at 11. 

It's just that I'm in such a habit of telling true stories here that taking an oath seems superfluous. 

I can swear by what I know, but what I know is always in a state of learning, expansion, so...

(I feel like no one has ever thought about the ambit of this.)

Then the judge dives into his sermon about what's actually going on here. 

Years ago when I was summoned by the jury gods before in Savannah, they had a spiffy video to say this whole spiel at an adequate volume with catchy music in the background to inform you of your humanly importance and inspire! you! to be a great! juror! 

They also gave you a sweet $15 and validated your parking.

Not so in Fort Valley.

This is the part where I learned that a grand jury decides what actually has the balls to go to trial. 

And by balls I mean "probable cause". 

After this homily and a few sips of that sugary beverage we spied earlier, the preacher then instructs the choir director to randomly call in order the first 25 members from the audience to join the grand jury choir.

Then the rest of us all sit and listen while they sing to another oath: the grand jury oath!

It's a beautiful hymn of promise, where they all vow to deliberate deliberately.

But here is the full, juicy story at 11:

One of the tenors in the choir didn't sing at all.

He was the one that was out of dress code that we saw in our scavenger hunt earlier.

He didn't make the oath!

After a solemn moment, the church discipline committee approached the pulpit.

The black robed one nodded his head, probably convening in prayer.

Then they swiftly dismissed the non-oather from the choir and called in an alto as a replacement who proceeded to perform a beautiful solo oath.

So it turns out that the old addage "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do" rings true.

You can choose to not take an oath.

You just have to know that you can.

Shortly after, the benediction was given and the assembly was dismissed, except for the grand jury that had to stay behind for choir practice.

I don't know if this blog post is even lawful because I'm not supposed to reveal secret information like it's some freemasonic fraternal blood ritual.

But yeah. I went to jury duty. 

And lived to tell about it.

All four couples right and left grand jury,

TWS

Update: I got a $20 check in the mail for my services. Your county tithes hard at work!

Trade Secrets

This isn't a recipe blog, but here is a recipe.
It is still a true story because I made them and I have photographic evidence.

Midnight Cookies

1 c of flour, heaping

.5 tsp baking soda

.5 tsp salt

2 Tbsp unsweetened cocoa

.5 cup of butter, melted

.5 tsp vanilla

1 egg

1/3 c sugar

1/3 c brown sugar

1/3 c mint chocolate chips

1/3 c dark chocolate chips

Oven at 375.

Mix wet ingredients & gradually add in dry and then stir in chips

Bake on parchment paper for 9 min.

Cool for 2 min.

Makes an angel dozen (11 cookies)

Dark chocolate is really just esoteric chocolate,
TWS

Beyond Beef

I would like to correct one small, itty, bitty, ridiculously stupid thing that I've heard too much. 

For almost three years now, Mike and I have been square dancing and have been, comparatively, the youngest square dancers on the floor more often than not.

Which is fine. 

There are the usual comments like, "What do your friends say?" as if we have any that would want to listen to us talk about this, or "How can we get more young people like you into this?"

IDK? Ask them to not bear children, I guess.

Answering to all that isn't the annoying thing. We dance at the advanced level now and are learning the first level of challenge. Because of our perceived age, we get asked how long we've been dancing because we obviously have had to learn quite a lot in a truncated period, comparatively.

After whatever inquisition ensues, it always seems to be summed up into the following stab:

"Well, you have a young brain."

And I'm just wondering at what point will our age stop being the sole reason for all our success?

At what age exactly will I just get to exchange my young brain for an old one so I can, too, make this excuse and forgo putting in effort anymore?

When will I just finally give up and fall in love with mediocrity?

Or will the excuse for doing anything, and doing it well, perpetually and eternally be me and my "young brain"?

Because that reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally discounts all of the other things that went into it.

No, no, no nevermind all the hours and effort, the self-training and repetition, the commitment to stay the course, the money and time spent travelling to get more hours of experience and buying the resources to learn the things that I want to learn how to do.

Just to be told ...

*~(It's 'cuz you have young brain.)~* :P ;)

As if intelligence and self-discipline are just inherent traits of "young" people everywhere, whatever ambiguous number that refers to.

Like my age is the only reason why I still have energy to do things.

Please, instead, recognize that I still have the energy to do things I want to do because

~*( I still want to do them.)*~

The truth is that learning has N.O.T.H.I.N.G. to do with brain age.

You just do the things you want to do.

It's that simple.

If you really want to do something, you have the privilege of deciding to control your own mind to figure out a way to do what you want to do.

And then, once you have decided, it is the persistence and commitment to becoming that character that knows how to do the things that physically builds the neurons and creates the brain connections to make it happen.

Now, you all know because you have seen this video that time is fake. 

And so my audience is obviously aware that you can make things happen perceivably faster by just being ready for them, increasing energetic output, etc.  

So, if time is fake, then so is age.

Which means then so is that comment that stabs me so.

*dramatic reenactment*

It is passion, it is care, that moves the energy to collapse realities into the talent you see before you.

Have you ever studied outside of class to actually know the definitions so that you could competently dance-by-definition?

Have you ever loaded the boat in a Microtel hotel room because you had just learned it the week before and wanted to be sure you knew it before you went out onto the floor again? 

Have you motivated in your living room with six other phantom dancers from every position so that you know where to go regardless of whatever help you may receive in the square?

Have you ever reverse-engineered a two-couple tip from Tony Collingwood on paper in order to properly visualize where your distorted box formation would be in order to accurately zing?

Have you ever courtesy turned yourself?

(j/k j/k)

I've just noticed that people like use their age as an excuse instead of just being honest with what they care to do.

And to be noticeably remarkable at something just to have your passion be smushed into a small little age box for discussion.

Psh.

That is so cheap.

You're missing all the character, all the passion, all the care that went into it that makes it fun not only for me but synergistically awesome for everyone else in the square.

Good thing I don't take things personally anymore,

TWS